


candle wax and thumb-hole sweaters never felt more like home to me

by wolfscrow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Sterek Week 2019, Sterek Week Halloween, Wolf Derek Hale, sad things but fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 08:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfscrow/pseuds/wolfscrow
Summary: Stiles does a lot of thinking and wondering on Hallow's Eve. A furry face brings him from sad thoughts of the past to pleasant ones of what could be.





	candle wax and thumb-hole sweaters never felt more like home to me

Despite not being a druid, nor of Celtic descent; Dr. Deaton insists that Stiles must participate in the druidic holidays while he trains his spark. 

This of course means when Halloween rolls around, instead of enjoying candy and parties and costumes like a normal teenager, he’s lighting candles before a grave. 

Samhain traditionally began at sunset of October 31st and ends at sunset of November 1st. He has a game plan to spend the twenty-four hours doing things that remind him of his mom. He thought for a while, about doing an activity for Allison or Aiden, but guilt churns in his stomach at the thought. He settles for candles. 

He doesn’t know where Allison’s grave is, he doubts that Chris would have it in Beacon Hills where he is not able to visit it. Ethan ran off not very long after Aiden’s death, taking his brother’s body with him. So he decides to do everything at his mom’s grave, where it’s slightly secluded due to the neighboring graves being saved for himself and dad. It’s morbid but they don’t want to be laid to rest separate from her. 

He takes a tall sage green candle, for Allison, and places it next to the baby blue candle he chose for mom. It’s followed by a wine-colored candle for Erica, and a daffodil yellow one for Boyd. He uses an indigo candle for Aiden. Finally, he draws a rosewood pink candle for Heather. Six candles for six people. 

He lights each one and thinks of who they represent and what they meant to him. The order of which one goes through depends on who it is they’re remembering and what they value. Stiles goes from least missed to most. 

First is Aiden, who he never really got the chance to know or grow attached to like the others had. He is followed by Allison, Erica, and Boyd; in no particular order. Stiles has no desire to try and figure out who of the three he misses more, because they all changed his life with each of their lives and deaths. He lights these three in order of death instead. 

He takes longer with Heather’s, because he and Heather were practically family. He’s angry that this life that found him took her life, when she hadn’t even known it existed. As much as he loves having magic- knowing that werewolves and the monster under your bed exist- he’d gladly trade it for ignorance if it meant those he loved would be alive. 

His mom takes the longest, because he misses her most. He thinks of her bubble laugh and her crinkly eyes, how she sang like a baboon but it was the prettiest sound because she didn’t care. She would dance and bop to the top 40’s while she weaved cooking magic in the kitchen, and little six-year-old Stiles would be enraptured by it. He misses especially, during the end of her life, the lucid moments when she was really his mother. Where she knew who he was and loved him, despite being sick and weak, and he would tell her all the things he couldn’t while she was lost in the delusion. 

It’s only really been thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops, but when he’s finally done with that portion, he feels like it's been hours. He knows it’s the grief and guilt that make him so bone tired, makes him want to curl up in his bed and pull the covers over his head. Just stop existing. 

But it’s only been an hour at most when he hears a twig snap from the tree line nearby. He barely spares a thought for freaking out when the familiar trickle-warmth-rush flows into his chest, and he instead relaxes at the feeling of Derek in the pack bond. 

He hadn’t been expecting Derek at all today, the sourwolf just kind of disappears on Halloween. Now that he thinks about it, Stiles is almost sure that the Hales were Celtic or something similar. Maybe they celebrated Samhain. 

When he looks to the trees, he isn’t surprised to see Derek pawing at the break in the trees. He looks uncertain, like he isn’t supposed to be there or that he’s interrupted something. They share eye contact for a bit, before Derek kinda huffs and walks over. 

He’s truly beautiful as a wolf, glossy black fur that he knows is softer than smooth, and those brilliant bright blue eyes. Blue is such a pretty color. Stiles absentmindedly runs a hand through Derek’s fur when the wolf plops down next to him. 

Stiles and Derek have been growing closer as the pack finally settles and the Nematon calms down. Now that the ole’ tree stump isn’t really beckoning super evil supernatural beings into Beacon Hills; the pack have been able to focus on actually healing from all the trauma. Scott has started to expand the pack, though by accident it started out, and is really growing into his Alpha status. It’s been almost a year since the nogitsune and everyone has seemingly moved past it. Stiles hasn’t had too much luck with it. He can finally sleep at night with only a waking nightmare once or twice a week instead of every night. 

Derek came back from his self-imposed journey to discover himself, in Mexico of all places, with the newfound ability to turn into a full ass wolf. After the initial control issues that came with the upgrade, Derek’s wolf calmed down and the guy seemed hella mellowed out. It’s something Stiles thought of often, Derek’s new wardrobe of worn jeans and soft sweaters with thumb-holes, scruff, and a less gelled hairstyle. Derek has just become of soft guy, though he still snarks and sasses like a champ. 

He actually shows emotions now! They grow up so fast. 

“What’re doing out here?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer, as Derek is still very wolf-shaped, but the annoyed chuff he gets in response probably means something like ‘making sure you didn’t get yourself eaten.’ So Stiles responds in kind. 

“I’m an independent adult now, I don’t need no man- er, Wolfman.” 

Derek simply rolls his eyes which, Stiles didn’t even know he could do as a wolf. They sit in silence for about ten minutes before Derek sighs and stands up, an expectant look on his face like Stiles should follow his lead. Stiles does, in fact, follow his lead despite the grief and the guilt and the utter sadness that permeates his entire brain. Stiles really didn’t want to participate in this holiday, because he knew it would just leave him sad and he never really learned how to deal with that well. 

He follows Derek as the wolf leads him away from the grave and back to his car, where he raises one wolfy brow and waits for Stiles to open the door. Once the door is open, Derek hops in and takes his place at the passenger side. He starts the drive home 

Stiles makes dinner in the kitchen, the radio plays top 40’s music and he sings along at the top of his lungs. He can’t quite make himself sound like a baboon, but he imagines it’s the hollering sing-song voice that’s the important part. 

He waves his hips to the rhythm, turning and stomping and enjoying the heck out of making food for others. Derek watches him from the wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed in a stretched-out tee that used to be Stiles and his dad’s old BHPD sweats. He’s wearing socks, and it’s the softest he’s seen him yet. 

Stiles catches his eyes every now and then, as sauce cooks and noodles boil, and thinks maybe they can finally move past their excuses and be something more. They’re both older, Derek has softened to match his exterior and Stiles has calmed from the hyperactive spaz he used to be. 

Music filters through pop song to pop song and Stiles dances his way to Derek, smiling wide at the little one gracing the others face. He remembers his mom dancing towards his dad, pure glee and fun in their faces and thinks this is how it’s supposed to feel. Loving someone and remembering loved ones. 

Yeah, he thinks, maybe they should stop pretending.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr [@nogitsuki](https://nogitsuki.tumblr.com)


End file.
